


Moonlight Sonata

by phoenixfawkes12



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, M/M, i may have accidently made a verse, its clints fault, kinkmeme fill, not even sorry, vampires and werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-02
Updated: 2012-05-24
Packaged: 2017-11-02 22:07:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/373860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixfawkes12/pseuds/phoenixfawkes12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just Clint Barton's luck that he's getting married off to a vampire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Piano Sonata #17 "Tempest"

**Author's Note:**

> First ever fill for the cc_feelsmeme. Filling for this prompt: "Vampires and Werewolves have been at war for millennia. However, the survival of both species is threatened by an even more dangerous enemy. To avoid extinction, they need an alliance, and the elders of both species agree to bind a powerful Werewolf prince (Clint Barton) and Vampire princess in sacred matrimony. Unfortunately, when both sides meet to sign the treaty, Clint takes one look at one of the Vampire kings (Phil Coulson) and sees his soul mate."

“No.”

“Clint----“ 

“ _No. I refuse._ ”

Barney sighed and ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair. “I am sorry, Clint. I am; but the treaty has been negotiated. It’s a done deal. You will marry her.”

Clint snarled, his lip curling and teeth flashing. Around the table the other pack members bristled at the show of force towards the pack master. 

“You would bind me to a _vampire_? What have I done to deserve that sort of punishment, brother?”

Barney sighed again, and then motioned for the rest of the pack to leave the room. Most of the other werewolves were slow to exit, only going after exchanging looks with the Alpha male. Once the door clicked shut Barney rose and crossed around the table to where his brother sat. Clint’s arms were ridged and his hands clutched the table so tightly that his knuckles were stark white and the table was starting to crack under the strain. “Clint,” he said softly, soothingly. 

His brother refused to meet his eye, instead staring into the middle distance. “ _Clint_ ” he said again, this time pushing some of his influence into his tone. Clint’s eyes snapped up to meet his and he released the table. Barney reached over and ran his hand through the other man’s short-cropped dirty blonde hair. Clint turned his head, pushing it into his brother’s hand as he stroked, seeking comfort. 

“If there was another other way, _any other way,_ you know that we would not forge this alliance. I would keep you here, brother, in this pack until you found your bondmate,” Barney stopped stroking Clint’s hair and turned his brother’s face towards his, blue eyes meeting blue eyes. “Yet I cannot. An alliance is the only way to save both our species.”

Clint rose from the table, fluid in his movements. So many of the wolves were bulky and abrupt in their movements, especially while wearing their human skin. Clint was gracefully in both his forms, his strength obvious in his muscles and physique. In his shifted form, he was stealthy, often flanking the other wolves on the hunt and taking down prey from the shadows.  
He scrubbed his hand over his face, the calluses from his archery habit rough on his skin. He turned to look at his brother, his Alpha, his pack leader. Barney had come into his leadership role when their father and mother had both died suddenly. Rumors were rampant that the Barton family patriarch’s drinking and whoring had finally caught up with him. Many had tried to challenge Barney’s place as pack leader and he had ruthlessly killed every one of them. Now, with a small but loyal pack, Barney was in a position of power. 

It was this power that had allowed for them to open negotiations with the vampire covens. The Barton pack had always lead the were packs and it was the Barton’s that they looked to now to ensure their survival. The weres and the vampires had been at war for centuries, the old hatreds fueling the bloodshed. Their fights had remained in the shadows, hidden away. The one rule that all supernatural beings followed: Keep their existence hidden. Werewolves and other shifters hunted away from populated areas; vampires feed on only on the willing or those that would not be missed.

What the pitiful mortals didn’t know wouldn’t harm them. Except when it did. No one is quite sure how it happened, but suddenly their existence was no longer a secret. Humans knew of all the things that went bump in the night. The humans reacted as they had for the whole of their existence, when faced with something that they did not understand. They sought to destroy it. Suddenly the were packs and the vampire covens faced a threat that none of them could fight alone. For the first time in a millennium, they needed something the other had. They needed a lasting, permanent peace. To ensure this peace, a deal was struck. 

An unbounded were prince would partake in a ritual to bind him to a unmated vampire princess. This sacred marriage would cement the alliance between the packs and the covens.  
Clint was the brother of the highest ranking pack master among the weres. He had not found his bondmate and was therefore the best candidate to put forward for the match. The vampires had just sent word that they had decided on their candidate. They would meet at midnight the next day to sign the treaty. 

Clint paced the room, agitation clear in the lines of his body. Barney waited silently for Clint to calm himself. Finally the younger Barton turned to his brother. “There is no other way?” he asked softly.

Barney shook his head. “No, Clint. There is no other way. I am asking a great and terrible thing of you. I am asking you to forsake your own happiness, your own chance at a bond. I am asking you to save our people.”

He shook his head, growling softly. Barney felt the hairs rise on his neck, an answering growl rising in his throat. Clint took one, then two more deep, centering breathes. He lifted his head and said, “So I have to marry a bloodsucker! Could be worse. Could be forced to marry someone like Rogers! I mean some days, I just don’t know how Stark does it. He’s good looking and all, but maybe if he’d take that massive stick out of his ass he’d be more fun.” Barney laughed then drew his brother in for a fierce hug. 

Neither man mentioned the tears that trailed down their faces as they broke apart.


	2. Piano Sonata #18 "Hunt"

The next day dawned bright and hot. Clint slipped from between the sheets on his bed and stretched, groaning as the tension in his back and shoulders released. He padded naked into his bathroom and started the shower. As he waited for the water to heat up, he took a long look at himself in the mirror. His blue eyes had bags under them from a night of tossing and turning. He kept his hair short as opposed to most of his pack mates who wore their hair long to their shoulders. He was in his late thirties, but looked younger due to the fast metabolism of a shifter. He’d age so much slower than regular humans. 

Stepping into the shower, Clint let the steaming hot water pound down onto his skin. He sighed, letting his stress drain away with the water. His mind flickered to his plans for the day. For once, he had no responsibilities, no duties to attend to for the immediate future. The Barton Brothers’ Traveling Circus was made up entirely of weres, shifters and other supernaturals that had no other place to call home. The constant movement allowed them to stay off the grid. No one looked too closely at a bunch of so-called freaks. They could hunt as they needed and were able to conceal their true natures. It had worked out well so far. 

This would his last day that was entirely his own. After tonight, he’d be expected to relocate to wherever the vampire he was to marry kept its nest. He’d be leaving his pack, his job, his family all behind to sleep during the day and be up at night with his new spouse. Clint was giving up everything for this treaty. He growled and slammed his palm against the wall. 

Wolves mated for life and Clint had seen the intensity that other bonded pairs had; Barney and his wife Pepper, Tony Stark and Steve Rogers, and the newest members of their pack, Thor and Loki. He’d never have that now. Clint craved it, the feeling of completeness with another person, waking up every day for the rest of his life next to a solid, warm body. He’d dreamt since he was a child about his mate. He had only seen bits and pieces in his dreams, never the full picture. He knew his bondmate was male, older than him, with a deep, rich voice. He had blue eyes and his lips curled up at the edges in small, secret smiles. Clint had looked for him. He’d looked in every town the circus stopped at. Wherever he went, Clint looked for him, but he’d never found him. Now…it wouldn’t matter. He’d be bound by this treaty to a vampire. 

Clint finished showering and toweled himself off. He didn’t bother dressing, just opened his trailer door, shifted and darted down the steps. He sprinted for the woods, his fur shinning in the early morning light and his strides tearing up the ground as he sprints around the perimeter the circus has set up. He spends the day in the woods, running, hunting, playing hide-and-seek with some of his pack mates that join him. 

As the sunlight begins to fade, he heads back to his trailer, climbs the steps again and shifts back into his human skin. The energy of the change thrums under his skin. He’s covered in dirt and has blood in his hair from the rabbit he’d managed to corner for lunch. Clint wants to go to the signing like this, every inch the wolf. 

Barney knocks on the open door and sticks his head in. “Go take a shower and dress in the suit I laid out for you. You’re not going like that. You smell. We leave in an hour to head to the coven’s meeting ground.” Without another word, his brother heads back out. Clint sighs and shakes his head. Barney knows him too well. So he takes his second shower of the day, making sure to scrub off the scent of the woods and of the kill he’d made. 

Finally, he steps from the shower and allows the wind blowing in from the open window to dry his skin. He styles his hair and dresses in the suit that Barney got for him. Its steel grey with pinstripes, a white shirt and purple tie to match the pinstripes on the suit. Clint looks himself over in the mirror one last time. At least he cleans up good, he thinks.

Looking around his trailer one last time, he sighs and shuts the door. His few personal belongings will be sent to him wherever he ends up living. Crossing the circus grounds he takes the time to appreciate the sights and sounds: the roar of the crowd under the Big Top, the scent of the fried food and the sounds of the many games on the midway. Children run by him screaming and playing, not a care in the world. Clint finally reaches the other side of the grounds and sees Barney waiting for him. 

The rest of the pack waits with him: Tony and Steve, Thor and Loki and Barney’s wife Pepper. It’s Pepper who sees him first and draws him in for a fierce hug. Once she releases him, Thor and Loki come forward, each clasping his arm in greeting. Finally its Steve and Tony’s turns. They each hug him as well, and Tony, just because he’s _Tony_ grabs a handful of Clint’s ass. 

“Clint,” says Steve, “Clint, we all want you to know how much we appreciate what you are doing for us. For all of us. Thank you.” Clint nods and hugs his pack mate again, because he doesn’t trust his voice right now.

Barney’s face is a mixture of pride and grief as they slide into the waiting town car. It pulls away from the circus and Clint watches the lights disappear in the distance as the car speeds up. They are seated in the back, behind a partition. Clint can smell the vampire driving. He reaches into the mini bar in the seat and shots a small bottle of whiskey. Barney gives him a look. 

Clint shrugs. “You said I had to be on my best behavior. You didn’t say I had to be sober.”

It takes over two hours to get to the designated meeting ground, an old estate on top of a mountain road. Easy enough to defend and old enough to be have a network of tunnels underneath for a rapid escape for the vampires. Once inside, Clint is lead off into a side room while Barney enters the main ballroom. Once inside the small room, Clint looks around, checks the exits and stares out the window.

Suddenly a voice above his head says, “So you’re the great werewolf savior? I was expecting someone taller. Tasha’s gonna eat you alive, man. Like, seriously.” Clint spins around in time to see a girl drop from her position clinging to the ceiling. She spins in midair and lands perfectly balanced on her feet in front of Clint. She’s pretty, pale skinned like all of her kind, with long brown hair and blue eyes. Clint’s eyes immediately dart to her chest because really, she may be dead but she’s got a fantastic rake. She’s got earbuds in and Clint can hear the strains of rock music as she removes them. 

She huffs at him and then smiles, showing off a pair of fangs. “Eyes up here, puppy. I’m Darcy. Darcy Lewis.” She extends her hand. Clint shakes it. Her skin is cool to the touch, but not icy, not dead or clammy or slimy like he expected. “Clint Barton.”

She circles around him, moving with a quick grace. She gives him a once over. Clint grins. “See something you like?” Darcy snorts. 

“You’re handsome, in a ‘can-shift-into-a-wolf’ way. I dated a shifter, ya know, before this.” She waves her hand at herself. “Before I died and became a super cool vampire.”

Clint tilts his head. Aside from the scent and the way that she moves, Clint wouldn’t have assumed she was a vamp. He decides to ask. “How old are you?”

Darcy laughs. “Dude, where did you learn to talk to women? Cause that’s not a question you ask someone when they’re alive!” She shakes her head at him. “I’m 30. Died when I was 23. In the grand scheme of things, I’m still a baby vamp. There are things in this house that were alive when Henry the Eighth was king. You want a drink?” She seems to be able to change topics on a whim. Crossing over to the sideboard she pours him a healthy amount of whiskey and hands him the glass. She then opens a second decanter and pours a drink for herself. As the thick red liquid hits the glass, Clint realizes with a jolt that its blood. “Better get used to it, Sparky. This is your life now.” Darcy salutes him with the glass, then downs it in one go. Clint follows suite, chugging his whiskey.

“So…you said that Tasha would eat me alive? Who’s Tasha?” 

Darcy grins at him, her fangs stained with blood. “Natasha Romanov. She’s the one Fury is putting forth as your match for the bonding. She’s Russian. She’s also my maker and a trained assassin. Fury uses her as a bodyguard and enforcer.”

Clint scrubs his hand over his face. “Great.”

Darcy shrugs. “She’s cold and hard to get to know, but when and if she opens up to you, she’s loyal. She’s funny when the mood takes her and honestly, she’s really, truly, stunning. Red hair, long legs…” She shrugs again before adding, “and a fucking monster in the sack.”

That catches all of Clint’s attention. He’s pretty sure what he wants to say is “please tell me more” but what he actually says is “hrgggg” because the images his mind is creating of the brunette intertwined with a redhead are making his brain short out. 

The sound of the door opening grabs both their attention. A middle aged looking man pokes his head in. He’s wearing a gorgeously tailored suit, has a slight receding hairline and seems to excel at looking utterly unassuming, which in Clint’s experience means he’s the most dangerous vampire in this place. He also has the most familiar blue eyes…

Once he spots Darcy he inclines his head towards the entrance hall. “Miss Lewis. Natasha is looking for you. It’s almost time.” With that he exits, pulling the door closed behind him. Darcy sighs and turns to Clint.

“Ok man, Show Time! Let’s make some magic happen!” The smile on her face fades once she catches sight of Clint. He’s shaking so hard the glass slips from his hand and shatters on the ground. 

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s ok. Clint, it’s going to be alright. I know this is scary and I wouldn’t want to be forced into a marriage, but we all need this, man.” Clint cuts her off, grabbing onto her arms and shaking her. She squeaks in surprise.

“Who was that?” Darcy shakes her head at him, confusion on her face.

“That man, Darcy. That man that just stuck his head in the room. _Who was that?_ ”

“Coulson. That’s Phil Coulson. He’s Fury’s right hand man. Natasha’s maker.”

Clint swallows past the lump in his throat and has to force himself to not sprint out of the room after the other man. “Darcy,” he says very slowly, “Please go and find my brother and bring him here.”

“But I’m not supposed to leave you alone,” she starts to say. Clint snarls at her. She squeaks again. Being half a foot from an enraged werewolf is not on the list of Things Darcy Lewis Wants to Do.

“Ok…ok. I’ll find him.” She breaks his hold on her easily and darts out the nearest window. Before Clint can ask what she’s doing, she’s out the window and climbing the outside of the building. A few minutes later she’s back, with a very confused looking Barney following her through the window. 

Barney takes one look at Clint’s face and rushes to his brother’s side.

“Clint, what’s happened—“

“He’s here, Barney. He’s here. I’ve looked for him my whole life and he’s _right here_. That’s why he never aged, why he always looked the same in my dreams, even when I was a child. He’s a vampire, Barney.” It takes him a full minute to piece together Clint’s babbling.

“Your bondmate,” Barney finally says. In the background Darcy mutters “Oh, shit.”

Clint shakes his head, breaks out into a grin. “He’s here. All we have to do is get them to amend the terms of the marriage treaty. Switch out from Natasha to Coulson. I can still have my bondmate, Barn. I can still be whole!” 

Barney is shaking his head. “I can’t do that, Clint.” 

“What…?” Clint doesn’t understand. “Barney…it’s my bondmate. My other half.” He steps closer to his brother. “Why wouldn’t you want this for me?”

“If we try and change the terms now, the whole deal will fall through. This isn’t just about you. It’s about all of our species. Don’t be selfish, Clint.” 

Clint shoves his brother. “ _Selfish?_ Fuck off, Barney.” He turns to head for the door. He makes it two steps before Barney’s voice washes over him. 

“Stop, Clint.” The pack leader’s influence washes over him and before he knows it, Clint’s on his knees, shaking. He’s trying to move, to throw off the influence. Barney open his mouth, and Clint knows he’s going to order him to forget about Coulson. Despair flairs in his stomach but before his brother can say another word, he goes ridged, and then pitches forward onto the carpet.  
Clint sees the prongs of a taser sticking out of his back and follows the cords back to Darcy.

“What? He was freaking me out! Now come on, I’ve just attacked the pack leader. We need to get you to Coulson and deal with whatever,” she waves her hand at Clint, “whatever this is.”


	3. Wellington's Victory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Changing chapter titles to all be works from Beethoven* Thank you all so much for the love and support. The responses to this story have just been awesome!

Clint continues to blink at Darcy for a full thirty seconds before she darts forward and grabs his arm, pulling him towards the window. “We’ve got about 20 minutes before he wakes up. I imagine he’s gonna be, ya know, pissed when that happens.” She inclines her head towards the unconscious form of Barney on the floor. 

He follows her out the window and together they climb the outside of the home. Good thing about old estate homes is the architecture. Lots of built in hand holds. They reach the upper levels and Darcy opens a window and slips inside. She turns and offers Clint a hand. They’ve just gotten both feet on the floor when an amused voice behind them says, “Running away with my intended, мышка?” 

Darcy squeaks and spins around. Clint doesn’t move. In front of them with arms crossed over her chest is a tall, slender redhead dressed in head-to-toe black. She’s leaning against the banister of the largest four poster bed Clint was ever seen, and picking at her nails with a small, sharp knife. A flick of her wrist closes the blade and it disappears somewhere on her person so fast Clint can’t even track it. She’s regarding them with a small smile and an expression that suggests there are an infinite amount of things that she’d rather be doing right now then dealing with Darcy and Clint’s Excellent Adventure.  
No one says anything, just stares at each other until the redhead fixes Darcy with a stare. She doesn’t even say a word just cocks an eyebrow and suddenly it’s like the Titanic because Darcy bursts into tears.

“Ok, I can explain, I can,” she says, waving her arms around. Clint ducks to avoid being struck upside the head. “So, I was doing my puppy guard duty---“ 

“Right here, Darcy,” mutters Clint.

“and then Coulson comes in and _he_ ” she jabs Clint in the arm, “he goes all gooey eyed and breaks a perfectly good glass all over the floor cause his big, meaty paws can’t hold it.”

“Still here. Right next to you, in fact. I can actually hear every word you’re saying.” 

Darcy plows on like Clint hadn’t even spoken. “So then I go and get the pack leader cause I don’t want to be eaten by Mr. Lovestruck, and then Barney starts being a real dick, so then I may have accidently-completely-not-my-fault-please-don’t-drain-me, Tash, tased him and left him to drool in the carpet downstairs.” Once she finishes her spiel, she sits down in a chair next to the bed and draws her knees up under her chin. 

The redhead sighs and finally focuses her full attention on Clint. She extends her hand and simply says, “Natasha Romanoff.” Clint likes his arms attached to his body, thankyouverymuch, so he takes the proffered hand and shakes it. He starts to say “Clint Bar—,” when she cuts him off with a slicing hand motion.

“I know exactly who you are. What I don’t know is why you and my progeny scaled the outside of my home after executing an unprovoked attack on a pack leader.” Before Clint can answer, she turns to Darcy.

“Go back downstairs and shove the pack leader in the closet and bar the door. He’s going to be..upset when he awakens. Then get Coulson and meet us in the garage. It looks like we might need a little more time then we currently have to work out the details of this…change in circumstances. Avoid Fury or Hill at all costs. Go, quickly now.” Darcy scampers out the window. 

Clint has had enough. “Lay off, will ya? She was trying to protect me.”

Natasha’s lips turn down in a slight frown. “I am hard on her for her own good. She is my responsibility. I made her, brought her into this life. I am tasked with keeping her safe. Having her head ripped off for attacking your brother will not accomplish those goals.”

“Barney won’t hurt her. He’s not like that,” Clint said.

She scoffed at him. “It’s not your brother that I’m concerned about. It’s Fury. He’s the head of this coven. What Darcy did could undo everything, no matter how noble her intentions were. An unprovoked attack could start a war. He’d execute her before he allowed the coven to be compromised.”

Guilt swoops in Clint’s stomach. “I won’t let that happen. She doesn’t deserve to die for trying to stop Barney from influencing me.”

She nods. “I won’t allow harm to come to my мышка, of that you can be assured.”

“What does that mean? You’ve said it twice now.”

“It’s Russian for ‘little mouse.’ Darcy squeaks a lot. It’s…endearing.”

Clint smiles. “Will you look at that? You do have a soul. Thought for a minute there it was just a hole filled with ice and vodka.” She flips him off.

Natasha moves across the room with a grace that makes Darcy look clumsy. Her heels click on the floor as she shoves a dresser away from the wall as if it weighed nothing. A panel slides open, revealing a door and a passage. 

“Super secret door? Fun times. I feel like I should be dressed like Indiana Jones. Hey, can I have a torch to carry in there? Better not be any snakes. I hate snakes.” Clint babbles when he’s nervous. It’s a defense mechanism. Natasha simply rolls her eyes at him and starts walking into the darkness. As the door clicks closed behind them the tunnel plunges into absolute darkness and it occurs to Clint that no one knows where he is and he’s just locked himself in a with a vampire in the pitch dark. A hand closes over his and he absolutely does not scream like a small child. He makes a very dignified whimper.

From somewhere in front of him, Natasha _laughs_. Oh, she’s enjoying this. Lovely. “Come on, we need to go,” she says and then starts pulling him along behind her. Clint has to jog to keep up and then suddenly there’s light up ahead and they emerge into a massive underground parking structure. Its full of cars that Clint’s only seen in magazines: among them are Ferraris, Lamborghinis, Alpha Romeos, McLarens, and a Saleen S7. 

Coming around from the other side was Darcy with a frowning Coulson in her wake. Clint’s pretty sure he’s drooling onto his shoes and can’t be bothered to care. From the corner of his eye, he sees Natasha watching his reaction. One eyebrow raises and she says, “Hmm,” before crossing the garage and steering Coulson to the side, his back facing Clint. They seem to be having a rapid fire conversation entirely in Russian. 

Darcy joins him. “No worries, man. Tash and Phil will sort this out. They are totally ninjas, like the both of them.” A few precious minutes later the conversation seems to end, which is kinda sad for Clint because he wanted to stare at Coulson’s ass some more. Darcy is snickering and making kissing sounds and starts to hum under her breath, “Phil and Clint, sitting in a tree...”

Natasha disappears and the sound of a revving engine echoes across the garage. An Ashton Martin DB9 pulls around the corner and Darcy immediately hollers, “Shot Gun!” She skips over and opens the passenger side door. As she tries to get in the car, Coulson, who is in fact a ninja, slips under her arm and into the seat. 

“Hey!” Darcy exclaims, “I totally called it! The rules of Shot Gun are absolute!” Coulson raises an eyebrow at her which makes Clint wonder if Natasha picked it up from him or vice versa. 

“Sorry Miss Lewis but I’m calling the ‘adding and abiding an escape from Fury’ rule.”

Clint slips into the backseat behind the driver. Natasha glances at him in the rearview mirror then says “Sir, she did call shot gun.” Coulson’s head swivels and he glares at her. With a long suffering sigh, he gets out of the car and into the backseat. It’s a tight fit and his thigh presses flush against Clint’s. Darcy slips into the front seat with a smile and gives Clint a thumbs up. 

Natasha reeves the engine again and the car pulls out of the garage and starts down the mountain road. “We’ve got three hours til sunrise. Where should we go?”

Coulson speaks up. ”There’s a safe house that I’ve kept in New York City. We can make it there and go to ground.”

“If we can make it there, we can make it anywhere!” Clint says.

Darcy spends the next hour singing every show tune that she knows. They arrive in the city with dawn at their heels. With a quick set of directions from Coulson, they pull into a parking garage and use the private elevator to head to the penthouse. All the curtains are drawn and the three vampires are heading in opposite directions to sleep. Darcy and Natasha slip into one bedroom together and Coulson motions for Clint to follow him down a hallway. His heart leaps into his throat with the thought that he’ll be allowed to share a bed with this man. Those dreams are shattered when Phil opens a door and reveals a single bed.  
“I’ll be across the hall if you need anything.” He nods to Clint and starts to leave. Clint can’t help himself, he reaches out and grabs the other mans arm. He rubs his thumb over the other man’s wrist.

“Wait. I just…I wanted to say thank you. For coming with us. I can’t imagine what this is like for you. So, ya know, just…thank you. That’s all.” Clint feels like an idiot.  
Coulson rubs his eyes. “Barton. There is a lot we need to talk about, but frankly all I want to do is sleep right now.” He rotates his arm out of Clint’s grasp. “I’ll see tonight, ok?” With that he disappears into his own bedroom.

Clint stands in the hallway for a few more minutes than enters his room to crawl into bed. Phil’s close proximity in the car, then again in the hallway has had a definite effect on him. As he undresses, his hand brushes against his rapidly hardening cock. He slips out of his boxers and into the bed naked. The cool silk sheets feel divine on his overheated skin. His hand creeps down under the covers and around his cock. 

Clint’s breath catches as he starts to stroke himself, slowly at first, then faster as the leaking precome makes it easier. He thrusts up into the circle of his fist, his thumb pressing against the sensitive underside. He’s ramping up fast, headed for the peak with images of Phil in his head and the feel of his thigh against his and Clint comes with a shout, spilling over his hand and stomach. As his breathing slows back down he uses some tissues nearby to clean himself up. He drifts off to sleep with the scent of Phil in his nose.


	4. Opis 48

When Clint wakes up, it’s nearly 12 hours later and he’s starving. He rolls out of the bed, dresses in the shirt and slacks from the night before and heads to the kitchen to see if there is anything in the penthouse that he can eat. He doesn’t expect much, given that this is a safe house owned by a vampire. He’s therefore very pleasantly surprised to find a fridge with cold beer in it and a freezer with a variety of readymade meals. He fixes himself a quick meal and then curls up on the couch. The DVR is filled with reality TV shows and old movies. He’s halfway through _Gone with the Wind_ when the floor creaks behind him. 

He’s on his feet and across the room before he’s even thought about it. Darcy shuffles into view, gives him a look and drags herself into the kitchen. She’s wrapped up in an absurdly fluffy bathrobe with pink bunnies on it. Clint snickers into his beer. Darcy continues to glare at him. 

“Shut up, it’s Tasha’s robe. We don’t have a lot of clothes here.” This sends Clint into peals of laughter. By the time he gets himself under control he’s wiping away tears.

“You’re telling me that hideous monstrosity of fluff and bunnies belongs to one of the scariest people I’ve ever met?” Clint grins and thinks of at least 18 different ways he’s gonna give Natasha shit over this when a voice speaks directly into his ear. 

“It’s so fluffy, you’re gonna die.” Clint shrieks and vaults himself over the couch. Now it’s Darcy who’s laughing and as Clint forces his heart rate back down into an acceptable range, he peaks over the edge of the couch that he is most defiantly not hiding behind. Natasha is standing there in the same black outfit from the night before with a small smile on her face. For her, Clint thinks, that’s practically the equivalent of a full belly laugh. 

“ _Despicable Me_! Great movie. I wanna watch that again. Hey! Hey!” Now Darcy is practically jumping up and down, “hey, does this count as annoying?” She takes a deep breath, holds it, and proceeds to hit her cheeks repeatedly.

“Yes.” Coulson says as he ambles into the room, all smooth lines in his suit. His clothing isn’t rumpled or stained or the least bit out of place. In no way does Coulson look like he helped a group of people run from a vampire coven in the middle of the night, then drive across the state. He crosses into the kitchen, takes a look in the fridge and frowns. 

“Are you hungry?” he asks Darcy and Natasha. Tasha shrugs and Darcy darts a look at her face. 

“She hasn’t feed in three days,” she mumbles. Tasha shots her the _look_. “I’m fine. I’ve gonna much longer between meals.” 

Coulson’s lips turn down into a deeper frown. “Natasha, Darcy. Go get dressed and go find something to eat. If you don’t want to hunt in the city, there’s a blood bank on W 71st and Columbus that you should be able to make a withdraw from.”

“They’ll be watching the banks. It’s not safe,” Tasha argues, “I’m fine and Darcy feed yesterday.”

“I wasn’t making a suggestion.” 

Darcy wraps her hand around Natasha’s arm and steers her back towards the bedroom. Twenty minutes later and both are dressed and heading for the door. 

“You want us to bring you someone back?” Darcy asks as they pull on coats. Coulson shakes his head, but pulls out his wallet and heads them a large amount of cash. 

“That won’t be necessary. Bring back some hot food for Clint, as well as some clothes and other necessities for all of us. I’ll go out when you both return.” 

Darcy reaches for the cash, but Natasha snatches it from Coulson’s fingers. “No money for you.” Darcy pouts as the door clicks shut behind them, leaving Clint and Phil ( _it’s always Phil in his head when they’re alone_ ) by themselves in the apartment.

Clint is terrible at the small intimacies, at relationships in general really. He’s not great at talking to people. The last relationship he’d had fell apart in truly spectacular fashion. He and Bobbi…they’d been good together, bordered on great. She just wasn’t…well, as it turned out, she wasn’t Phil. She’d been a PhD in biochemistry, a freaking doctor. Clint could barely read. She was also fully human. Clint could never really be himself around her, always felt on edge. In the end, she’d moved out to the west coast and told Clint if he ever got his shit together to look her up.  
He shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back and forth on his heels. Phil crosses the room and makes sure he places himself in front of Clint, not at his back. He’s not aligning himself in a threatening manner. He’s not directly in his personal space, but he’s close, oh so, close. All Clint would have to do is take a handful of steps forward and he could press himself against the other man from chest to thigh. He wants to touch, to taste, and to do so many things to this man. He’s waited his whole life, seen everyone else’s happy endings. Clint’s forever been the outsider; he’s felt like butter scraped over to much bread, like a puzzle piece jammed into the wrong slot, like a string pulled too tight and fraying at the edges, just waiting for the last bit of tension to _snap_.

It’s Clint’s turn now, dammit. He steps forwards and buries his face in the crock of Phil’s neck. He’s cool to the touch, and there is no pulse beating widely just under the surface of the skin. Clint can’t fasten his mouth to that point and feel Phil’s heartbeat race under his lips; won’t be able to lick a trail over it and feel it jump. It’s the opposite of everything Clint had ever thought he’d wanted yet at the same time it’s perfect. Phil’s his life vest after a lifetime adrift at sea. His scent fills Clint’s senses: ink and wood smoke and metal all bound together with something unnamable that is completely _Phil_. 

“Barton,” rumbles Phil’s voice, a hint of exasperated humor in the tone, “are you sniffing me?”

“Maybe,” mutters Clint without removing his head from the crock of Phil’s neck. “Is that a problem?”

Now he can practically hear Phil rolling his eyes. “No, it’s fine that you have wrapped yourself around me like some sort of octopus. I’m sure I can walk around all evening with you plastered to me.”

Clint smiles. “It’s a date.” Phil huffs a small sigh, then places his hands on Clint’s chest and slowly pushes him away. “We need to set some ground rules here. I’m not a first date kinda guy.”

“I am,” says Clint as he tries to lean into Phil again, but the other man strong arms him and steers him to the couch. Phil steps away and Clint tries to follow. “Stay.” 

“Clint,” he says, firmly. It’s a no-nonsense tone, one that isn’t accustomed to being argued with. “I’ve been fighting this war practically my whole life. I’ve killed hundreds of your kind, and feed off a hundred more.   
You need to understand that I’m not what you think I am. I’m a murderer. I’m ---”

“Mine,” Clint cuts him off. “That’s what you are. You’re mine. I don’t care what you’ve done, I don’t care who you’ve killed, and I don’t care if you’ve drained whole packs. It should bother me, it should, but it doesn’t. Because none of that matters. What you did, what I’ve done. All that goes away, the board gets cleared, the scores wiped out. I’ve been waiting forever for you.” Clint comes to his feet and advances on the vampire. 

“All I want is to be with you. I want to touch you and taste you and pin you down and fuck you. I want to mount you and mark you and God, help me; I want to feel what it’s like to have your fangs in my neck. You are mine, Phil. Mine. No one and nothing is going to take you from me now that I’ve found you, so you can take your noble bullshit and stuff it. Is that clear?” He’s crowding the other man now, and every instinct that Clint has is screaming at him that he’s backing a vampire into a corner and he should _runrunrun_ but he forces it down and stares into Phil’s blue eyes.

“You’re walking into hell,” Phil says.

“Then I’d better make friends with the Devil.”

“I hear he likes to dance,” and with that, Phil closes the gap between them and presses his lips to Clint’s.


	5. The Creatures of Promethus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One step forward and two steps back.

Phil’s lips are as cool as the rest of him. He tastes like spring and the wind and the feeling that Clint gets when he shifts and can just run for hours with nothing but earth spread out under his feet. It’s the most addictive combination of tastes that he’s ever experienced, and Clint knows that as long as he lives he will never want anything else as much as he wants this. He’s falling and he’s falling fast and if Phil Coulson wants to ask him to dance with the Devil then he hopes that he likes to Mamba. 

Phil suddenly twists away and Clint whines because he doesn’t want to stop, don’t ever stop, and then it’s fine again because Phil pushes him until his back hits the wall and he’s moving back in and dipping his head and pressing his mouth back onto Clint’s. His tongue swipes over Clint’s bottom lip and it’s all the invitation he needs to chase it back into Phil’s mouth and thoroughly explore the inside of his mouth. Finally Clint realizes that he’s a bit lightheaded and has to break away and take a few deep breaths. He doesn’t know if it’s from the not breathing part or just a base reaction to Phil. It’s probably a pretty 50/50 split. 

Clint knows that he probably looks wrecked, his lips kiss-swollen, his face flushed and his breath coming in short, fast gasps. Phil reaches out and traces his finger down along Clint’s cheek and over his jaw, dipping to drag along the long line of his throat and finally coming to rest on his collarbone, his whole hand cupping around his neck. Phil’s eyes flicker to his throat and then back up to meet Clint’s eyes.

Clint swallows because it’s not supposed to be hot to see a vampire look at you like he wants to spread you out and have you for dinner, but somehow with Phil it is. Apparently swallowing was the thing to do because Phil’s fingers jump as the muscles underneath move and then he _moans_ and Clint decides then and there that he will do anything required to hear that sound again. His brain then promptly short circuits because Phil keeps his hand on his neck but leans in and inhales and then licks a stripe from collarbone to mouth and then presses his forehead to the wall next to Clint’s head as his whole body shudders.

“Barton,” he says and he sounds just as wrecked as Clint feels and Clint smiles at the sharp jolt of pleasure that gives him because at least he’s not falling alone anymore. It’s nice, to have someone to hold onto. 

“That’s my name,” he says, “Don’t wear it out. Only one I’ve got. If you need to call me something else, I can suggest several alternatives: ‘ Baby,’ ‘Sweetie’, ‘Hunny’, ‘Oh God, Yes’, ‘Faster’, ‘Right There’, ‘Oh Shit Don’t Stop’ and my personal favorite,’ Oh Masterful Sex God.’ 

Phil snorts and says, “I am not calling you ‘sweetie.’ My whole image would be ruined.”

“So ‘Masterful Sex God’ is still on the table then?”

Phil does the Patented Coulson Eyebrow Lift of Doom™ and calmly replies, “Only if you can put your money where your mouth is.” 

Yeah, yeah, Clint can that. He can _defiantly_ do that. He drops to his knees and sets to work on Phil’s belt, then just because Clint can’t have it said that he doesn’t go for broke, he uses his teeth to undo the button and lower the fly of the dress slacks. Above him, Phil gasps. Clint grins and slowly, draws Phil out from his boxers. He’s half hard already and a few strokes of his hand has him fully erect.   
Phil’s hand finds its way into his hair and gives a sharp pull. His other hand traces Clint’s jaw and he turns his head and sucks Phil’s fingers into his mouth, using his tongue to trace each long, elegant finger. He flicks his eyes upward and Phil has a contemplative look on his face. He can’t quite read it, so he refocuses on the task at hand. He withdraws Phil’s fingers and sucks his cock into his mouth. Clint sucks hard on the head, and then traces the vein on the underside with the flat of his tongue. The fingers in his hair spasm once then tighten slightly. 

Clint swallows around as much as he can and uses a hand to circle the base. He bobs up and down, sets a brutal rhythm. He’s moaning around Phil’s cock and Phil uses the fingers in his hair to control the pace as much as he can. Small twitches of Phil’s hips betray the fact that he’s holding back, trying not to push and Clint wants to make him fall apart, lose some of that iron control, mess up Phil Coulson, just a little bit. It’s a pretty safe bet to say that Clint Barton has some epic boundary issues. So it’s not a great surprise when Clint uses his teeth to graze across the length of Phil’s cock and then relaxes his throat and takes him as deep as he can. Phil’s hips twitch again and this time he actually thrusts. 

“Clint,” he says and it’s a clear warning. All the reply he gives is another moan around the cock in his mouth and then Phil is bracing his hand so hard into the wall that the plaster actually cracks. He tries to pull back but Clint just swallows around him and combo of the fluttering of his throat and the tight, wet heat does it and Phil is coming down his throat with a bitten off shout. Clint cleans him off and gentle tucks him back into his pants. He slowly stands up and Phil again traces the line of his jaw and throat. 

“So am I an epic sex god?” he asks. Phil’s lips twitch in a small smile. 

“Further evaluation is required,” he says. “But so far, the data looks promising.” Phil’s fingers are now tracing the hard line of Clint’s own cock through the fabric of his slacks. Clint whines and pushes himself against Phil’s hand. Quicker than he can process, his pants are open and Phil’s hand is around him. He’s so worked up that it doesn’t take more than a half dozen strokes of Phil’s hand before Clint is panting and drops his head to the vampire’s shoulder. Phil then _slows his hand down_ and Clint nearly loses his fucking mind.

“Oh shit, don’t stop,” he pleads and he thinks he can hear the grin that must be on Phil’s face. 

“Thought that was supposed to be my line,” he says and now Clint barks a quick laugh. The hand gripping him speeds back up and soon he’s on the edge again and finally, he’s going over with a high pitched whine that he’ll be embarrassed about when he can put a thought together again. When he comes back to himself, Clint is back on the couch resting with his head in Phil’s lap and fingers are carding through his hair. 

This, Clint thinks, is that happiest he’s ever been. Of course, this is naturally the exact moment that everything goes to absolute shit. 

Later Clint is going to chalk up both Phil and his delayed reactions on the fact that they’d both just had great orgasms and that they are in a safe house that no one else is supposed to know about. So when the door opens, neither of them take any notice, assuming its Darcy and Natasha.

It’s not until two pairs of footsteps that are far too heavy to be the female vampires’ echo across the apartment and Phil goes rigid under his head that Clint realizes that something is terribly wrong. He sits up and comes face to face with the business end of a rifle. Phil also has the muzzle of a rifle pressed into the back of his skull. He looks calm and disinterested, like the fact that someone is threatening him is boring and just a minor annoyance, but Clint can see the fire in his eyes. Phil is enraged.

Its who’s holding the rifle in his face that makes Clint feel like he’s been punched in the stomach; all the air flees his lungs. 

“ _Barney_?” he whispers, his voice colored with disbelief. His brother looks angry and the grip on the rifle tightens. 

“Stand up, Clint,” he says and motions with the rifle for Clint to move around the couch. 

“Fuck you,” he snarls and feels the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He’s shaking, and knows he’s on the verge of shifting then and there and making a go at ripping Barney’s throat out, brother or not.

The piece of shit that has a rifle pressed into Phil’s head cocks the gun and says, “Do as your brother asks, Barton. I don’t know if your blood sucking fuck buddy will be able to heal from a brain full of silver, but it might be fun to find out.” Clint pales at that and slowly stands and moves around the couch, Barney keeping the rifle trained on him the whole time. The goon jabs Phil in the head and says, “You too; up and around here. Try anything and you’re brains are gonna be all over the wall.”

The goon raises a radio to his mouth and barks out, “All clear.” Suddenly more men are pouring into the room, all with guns. They encircle Phil, Clint, Barney and goon, who Clint has now named “Really Fucking Dead Guy.” Just when things don’t look like they can get any worse, a man strolls into the room. Phil makes a low, angry sound in his throat. The new guy is tall, bald, dark-skinned and wearing an eye patch over a heavily scared face. He looks over Clint, then turns his attention to Phil.

“Coulson.”

“Fury,” intones Phil, voice full of barely suppressed rage. Fury grimaces and shakes his head.

“Phil, Phil, Phil. Why did you have to run? All this unpleasantness could have been avoided. I’m sure this is just some misunderstanding, isn’t it? Just a misunderstanding. We can still come to terms here, and all this can be forgiven. All you have to do is relinquish your claim on the pup here, and we can work this all out. All I want is my property back.”

“Your property? Fuck you! I’m not a dog! No one owns me!” Clint lunges forward and gets the butt of the rifle in his stomach for his trouble. He doubles over, wheezing. Phil growls, his fangs flashing in the light cast off from the end table lamps. 

Fury turns to Barney. “You didn’t tell him, did you?” 

Barney scowls. “He didn’t need to know. The deal was between you and me. My pack is safe; my people are safe. That was the deal. The fate of one wolf is meaningless in the grand scheme of things.”

Clint darts a look between the coven head and his brother. “Barney?” he gasps out.

Fury is grinning now. “You were to bond with Natasha as a formality. Once the treaty was secure, your bond would then be passed onto me, as is my right as coven head. Your brother sold you like a common animal to save his own skin.”

Betrayal blooms in Clint’s chest. “Natasha—“ he says.

Fury cuts him off. “Don’t worry. She knew nothing of the secondary arrangement. She was marrying you because I told her to, even if it kept her from her ‘little mouse.’ I didn’t expect her loyalty to her maker and her lover to supersede her loyalty to her coven.” He frowns. “Don’t worry, Natasha and Darcy’s duplicity is being…dealt with.”

Barney shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter now. He’s ruined for you; he won’t bend to you now that he’s found his mate. So we go with the secondary arrangement with Hammer.”

Fury shrugs. “Pity. I would you enjoyed breaking him in.” He pulls a cell phone from his pocket and dials it. “Deals a go. Come and get them,” he says. 

A few minutes later a human enters the room. His sandy brown hair and glasses frame an attractive face but everything about him screams _wrong_ to Clint. He looks at Fury and Barney.

“Everything is in order. You give me these two,” he indicates Clint and Phil, ”plus the two females you already captured and I’ll make sure your covens and packs are left alone to do as you will. The United States Government will turn a blind eye to the goings on of your…groups. Deal?” 

Barney and Fury both nod. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Justin.”

Hammer grins and then side steps to stop in front of Clint and clasps his hands in joy. He scans him over like he’s looking to buy a piece of meat.

“Oh, will you look at this. Oh, what a specimen. Young, strong, healthy. Oh, what a joy you will be. I have just the perfect cage for you, my pretty, yes I do.” 

At the word ‘cage’ Phil finally snaps and lunges at the human, going for his neck. He gets close before three goons open fire on him. His body contorts as the silver enters his blood stream. Phil screams in agony. 

Clint howls in rage and tries to jump in, to save his mate, his rage fueled by his brother’s betrayal. 

Just as he reaches Phil a rifle slams into the side of his head, sending him reeling. He clasps to one knee, struggling to stay on his feet. As he vision swims, Barney stops in front of him, holding the rifle. 

“I’m sorry, Clint,” he says.

“Barn—“ Clint slurs, but can’t finish the word as his brother brings the rifle down again, crashing into his temple and plummeting him into darkness.


	6. Opis 108, #12: Oh, had my fate been join’d with thine

Consciousness returns slowly to Clint. He becomes aware of a number of things. First, it feels like a small army is marching its way through the inside of his head. Secondly, his stomach is rolling with nausea. Thirdly, he’s so tired that he can barely stay awake. He knows he needs to. Someone is hurt, someone is missing, and someone is counting on him. It’s so hard to concentrate. Memories flash in bits and pieces in front of his closed eyes. A scent tickling his nose, the taste of spring in his mouth, the feel of lips on his, the touch of cool skin pressed flush against his. A women’s laugh, a soft smile, a flash of red hair, and a robe with bunnies on it. 

Clint’s eyes snap open. He remembers everything. The aborted bonding ceremony, the rush to flee into the city, Darcy, Natasha. Barney and Fury and gunshots and the pain of his brother’s betrayal. Phil.

_Phil >/i>_

The industrial lighting is harsh, and he has to close his eyes, then slowly open them again, blinking rapidly to try and dispel the spots dancing in front of his eyes.

Once his eyes adjust, he’s able to take in his surroundings and it makes his blood run cold. He’s clearly in some sort of lab and is being housed in a small cage just long enough for him to stretch out the length of his body, and tall enough for him to sit straight up in, but not nearly tall enough to stand upright. The bars are too small for him to try and squeeze through, but those factors pale in comparison to what he feels around his neck. He’s been _collared_. It’s heavy and cold and steel. It’s also the cause of his exhaustion. He can feel the silver lining in the metal burning his skin, stealing his strength. 

An intense anger burns in the pit of his stomach. He’s a man, a _person_ , not a fucking animal. He has rights, liberties, and he’s entitled to his own fucking pursuit of happiness. Clint moves, stretches his muscles and lifts his hands to trace the line of the collar around his throat. He hisses at the sharp burn that comes as his fingers trace the metal. 

“It won’t come off,” a quiet voice says to his left. Clint starts badly then looks over. He didn’t realize that his cage is just one in a long row. The speaker is in the cage next to him and somehow looks more tired than Clint feels. He’s wearing a purple shirt and dark pants, has curly salt-and-pepper hair and the most fiercely intelligent eyes that Clint has ever seen and Clint has spent a great amount of time with _Tony Stark_ , who is of course a genius, among other things. He’s reclining against the bars of his own cage. He’s got a collar of his own, but it looks different than the one that encircles Clint’s own neck. 

“It won’t come off without a key or a pass code. If you try and remove it, you’ll just end up hurting yourself. Trust me.” He smiles then and holds up his own hands. His fingers are clearly burnt and blistered. The man shrugs. “I keep getting the same result, but I couldn’t bear to stop trying. Giving up…it’s just so final. You give up, and you give away the last part of yourself. You give up, then they win.” The man’s eyes take on a faraway look and it’s clear that his thoughts are no longer on Clint. A few minutes later, he shakes his head and his eyes clear. 

“Sorry about that…it’s the collar. Yours keeps you weak and prevents you from shifting. Mine…well, it keeps my heart rate low and sedates me. I find it hard to focus on any one emotion. My thoughts have been slippery since they put this on me.”

Clint frowns. “You’re a shifter too, then?”

“In a matter of speaking.”

“What does that even mean?” Clint asks. 

A sad smile crosses the other man’s face. “Let’s just say that it’s better for everyone if I don’t get angry. People tend to get hurt when I get angry.” His eyes start to close and he’s falling asleep. Clint rattles his cage bars. 

“Hey, hey, hey, stay with me here. Come on, man. Don’t leave me alone.” 

The man jerks slightly then slurs, “Rue.”

Clint’s confused. “What?”

“Rue. Ruce,” he clears his throat, tries again. “ _Bruce_. My name. Bruce Banner.” 

Clint nods. “Ok. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Bruce Banner. I’m Clint. Clint Barton.” He stretches his hand through the small gap in the bars, holds it out to the other man. Bruce is staring at the offered appendage like it’s a lifeline. With his own hand shaking, he reaches over and gentle encompasses Clint’s hand in his own. He slowly pumps it, staring at their joined hands with a growing sense of awe. Suddenly he’s shaking Clint’s hand harder and faster. Finally he breaks out in a real, honest smile. He ultimately lets go and Clint withdraws his hand into his own cell again.

He spends the next few hours simply talking with Bruce. Anything to keep his mind occupied and awake. Anything to keep Bruce from going still and silent and leaving Clint alone to wallow in his despair. He tells Bruce about his childhood, shuffling from place to place with Barney and his parents, until they died and the brothers had to strike out on their own.  
He tells him about his pack: about Thor’s strength and booming laugh, Loki’s cunning and wit, Tony’s humor and genius, Steve’s warmth and kindness, Pepper’s grace and quiet power that holds them all together. He talks about how the pack formed, how they found each and every member and how they were so strong as a whole. He talks about Barney; because he’s his brother and brothers are supposed to defend and love each other, not betray them and sell them. He talks about the joy that comes with shifting, the freedom and the power. Finally, he talks about Darcy and Natasha and that first fateful meeting when a girl fell from the ceiling. As his voice becomes hoarse from talking for hours, he speaks about Phil.

He tells Bruce all about Phil. He talks about the bonding instinct and the dreams and waiting a lifetime for someone that’s been waiting lifetimes for him too. He talks about finally slotting into place and feeling whole and for the very first time in his life, finding the person that made him complete. He talks about how Phil smells and looks and how his lips quirk at the corners when Darcy sings show tunes in the middle of the night. 

Bruce sits and listens the whole time. He asks questions here and there. He asks what it’s like to be part of a pack, of something bigger than yourself. He tells Clint his own story. He talks about trying to make the world better, about an experiment gone terribly wrong, about ‘the other guy’ and the general who thinks that Bruce’s whole body should be the legal property of the United States Army. He talks about Betty. Clint understands then. Betty is Bruce’s Phil. General Ross has put her beyond his reach and it’s slowly killing Bruce. 

“Does it hurt, Clint? When you shift?” Bruce asks.

Clint shakes his head. “No, it’s a fluid change. One moment I’m a man, and the next I’m on four legs and the world is completely different.” He pauses, looks the other man over. “Does it hurt when the Other Guy comes out?”

That small, rueful smile is back on Bruce’s face. “Every.Single.Time.”

Exhaustion, hunger and despair are all catching up with Clint. He’s so tired. He stretches out as much as the cage allows and sees Bruce do the same. Clint slowly twists his hand back through the bars and offers his hand, palm up, to Bruce. The other man reaches over and gently claps his hand to Clint’s. They fall asleep with their hands intertwined, knowing that they aren’t quite as alone as they had been a few hours earlier.  
\-----------------  
Awareness filters back in to Clint. He can hear a snuffling sound, like an animal sniffing. He turns his head and cracks open his eyes. The lab is dark, the scientists clearly having gone home for the night. On the other side of his bars, just visable in the darkness is a pair of green eyes---. Clint’s eyes widen. He _knows_ those eyes, has seen them across meadows during a hunt and across pool tables when they’d team up to scam a group of rednecks out of their hard earned beer money. 

“Loki,” he breathes, “ _”Loki_!”

The wolf on the other side of the cage gives a small yip and full body wiggle that Clint interprets as _found you_. Loki’s tongue is lolling out the side of his mouth. He looks especially pleased with himself. His inky black fur is so dark it blends with the darkness of the lab. Loki has always been able to walk in the shadows better than all of them.  
Clint gentle pulls his hand from Bruce’s and then lifts his head. Loki goes ridged and a low, angry growl passes behind his teeth. He’s spotted the collar.

“I know, I know. I’m not thrilled about it either.” 

Loki whines again, pushes a paw through the bars. Clint strokes it, reveling in the feel of the fur, of family under his finger tips. After a minute, Loki pulls back, dips his head and jerks it towards the far wall. Clint can make out other shapes moving in the shadows and one by one more wolves are coming forth. He can see the long blond fur and bright blue eyes of Thor, the short blond fur of Steve, the brown fur of Tony and most surprising of all, the red fur of Pepper. 

Tony comes right up to the bars and tilts his head, his eyes darting from the hinges to the locks to the collar around Clint’s neck. He bares his teeth, and then darts into the shadows. He’s back a few minutes later. 

He then shifts into his human skin. His face breaks into its usual grin, full of confidence and swagger. 

“Hey ya, buddy. Just hang on, we’re gonna get you out of here.” Tony sets to work on the locks and within moments, the door to the cage swings open. Clint crawls out and before he can even straighten, Thor barrels forward and knocks him off his feet, the wolf’s tail thumping loudly in the silence of the lab. He licks Clint’s face and Clint allows himself a moment, wraps his fingers in the thick fur and inhales the scent of Thor: lighting and thunder and ozone, all wrapped together. Finally, he takes one more deep breath and then sits up, shifting Thor off of him. The blond wolf sits down with a thump and continues to wag his tail, his joy at being back with Clint written in every line of his body. Thor has never been subtle. 

Clint looks at the others; Tony is still human and his dark eyes are full of questions. Steve, Pepper and Loki are in their wolven forms. 

“Why are you here?” he asks softly. Thor whines, pushes forward and flips Clint’s hand up so it rests on his massive head. He pushes his snout into Clint’s side, then twists and pushes it into Loki’s side. _Family. You’re our family, too._

Tony sighs. “Did you really think when we found out what Barney had done that we weren’t going to come for you?”

“Barney’s pack master—“

“Was pack master. He violated the most sacred rule of the pack. He sold out his kin. He put his own needs above that of the pack as a whole. We will hunt him when you’re safe. He will answer for this.” 

Clint swallows past the lump in his throat. They’d come for him. His pack hadn’t abandoned him. Tony disappears into the shadows of the lab again and when he returns his hands are covered in heavy work gloves and he has a _blow torch_. 

“No, no no, Tony, no.”

“Collar’s gotta come off, Clint.”

“Yeah, that’s not the part I’ve got the issue with. It’s the part where you want to light me on fire that has me worried.”

Tony shrugs. “ I can either burn through that thing or I can spend time trying to break the code. Your call, pack man.” Clint closes his eyes, nods, and turns his head. He tries not to flitch when the torch lights and instead wraps his hands in Thor’s fur again. One quick pass of the flame and the collar around his neck falls away. He takes a deep breath and he can feel it, his strength flowing back into his limbs and underneath the surface, his wolf wakes up. It’s primal and fierce. His senses ignite. Around him, his pack mates shift, sensing the change as well. 

Clint stretches, loosens his muscles. Time to find his vampires and get the hell out of this nightmare.

He turns to Tony. “I need to find Phil. Plus two female vampires, a redhead and a brunette. Also,” he nods to the cage next to the one he was housed in, to the dozing form of Bruce. “He’s coming too.”

“Who’s he?” 

“A sleeping giant,” Clint replies. Tony tilts his head, looks at Steve. The other blond shifts into his human form. Steve’s always been the voice of reason. 

“Are you sure, Clint?”

“Yeah. He’s lost, too. If we’re going to escape, we may need his…skill set.” Steve nods, satisfied. Tony sets to work and pops the lock on Bruce’s cage. The other man’s eyes snap open and he scurries back away from the hands that are reaching for him. Clint darts into the opening and into Bruce’s line of sight. 

“It’s me, Bruce. We’re leaving now and I want you to come with us.”

Banner’s gaze darts between the wolves, Tony and Clint. 

Clint reaches out his hand, palm up, just like he’d done earlier. Bruce takes a deep breath and allows Clint to help pull him from the cage. Tony sets to work and a few moments later, Bruce’s collar falls off too. 

Unlike when Clint’s collar had come off, the moment Bruce’s does an alarm starts to scream around them. Doors burst open and armed troops rush in. Clint’s heart plummets. His pack is going to die because they came for him. Behind him, Bruce growls and all the hairs on the back of Clint’s neck stand up. His senses scream _dangerdangerdanger_. Bruce starts to shake and twist and swell and suddenly the quiet, soft spoken lonely man is replaced by a towering green behemoth. He roars and proceeds to smash the men with guns into the walls. Then, he simply goes through the walls, leaving a very large and clear path of destruction in his wake. Silence rains in the lab after Bruce’s exit.

“What,” breathes Tony, “the actually _fuck_ was that?”

“That,” smirks Clint, “is The Other Guy, and he’s on our side.”


	7. Opus 26: Piano Sonata No. 12  ("Funeral March")

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting; real life can sometimes toss up roadblocks. One more chapter to go! I keep telling myself 'this one is it' then more plot bunnies hatch their evil ideas. Anyways, here you go. As always, thank you so very much for the love and comments. They mean the world to me, truly.
> 
> Trigger warnings for this chapter: Depictions of torture and violence. This isn't everyone's cup of tea, so I felt I warn for it ahead of time.

Now that the defenses have been demolished, all that is left is to find where the three vampires are being held. Clint stretches his limbs, reaches for the wolf inside and finally, shifts. One moment the world is colored and muted scents and the next its sharper, full of blacks, grays, whites and bursting with smells. He sneezes when his nose fills with the sterile antiseptic odor of the lab and his heart breaks a little, because under the bleach smell, Clint can smell the blood of those who came before him, who never left this place. No amount of scrubbing will cleanse the smell of death, of pain, of sin from here. If he hadn’t wanted to burn it to the ground before, he sure does now. 

Clint puts his nose to the ground and starts to track. Aside from Loki, he’s the best tracker in the pack. He catches hints of the scents he needs: a floral scent that reminds him of Natasha and a softer scent that speaks of Darcy. He can’t find Phil’s scent and his heart rate picks up. Phil had been injured, shot with silver…but no, no, Clint refuses to think like that, to allow his mind to travel down that path. He will find Phil, he will save him and he will bring him home. 

First things first. He can find the girls (he thinks Natasha would hurt him to know he was thinking of her as a ‘girl’). He darts down an auxiliary hallway, and without looking back he knows his pack is at his heels. He can hear the thundering of Steve and Thor’s massive strides; can see Tony on his right and Loki on his left and sees the flash of red fur that tells him that Pepper still follows. They come to a fork in the hallway.  
Down one path Darcy’s scent is strong and down the other is Natasha’s. There is still no hint of Phil. He paces for a moment, indecision racing through his system. He can’t rescue them both alone. _Alone_. 

He’s not alone. He has allies, packmates, and friends to help him. He turns to Steve, rubs his body over the length of his long body, and transfers his scent. Hopefully it will be enough to calm Natasha, to know that Steve acts on Clint’s order. Steve nips Clint’s shoulder in understanding, and then takes a few steps away, heading down the hallway that leads to Natasha. Tony and Pepper follow. Steve waits for the ok from Clint. He barks sharply. _Go, find her, come back safe_. The three turn tail and disappear down the hall with the sharp click of their claws on the tile floors. 

That leaves Clint, Thor and Loki to track down Darcy. It isn’t hard. As they progress down the hall, the scent grows and finally it culminates at the closed door at the end of the hall. It’s not even locked. Clint can push it open with his nose. 

The room is dim, the only light source a series of overhead lights that flicker and sputter, casting the room into shadow. Through the darkness, Clint sees Darcy. She’s chained down to a lab table and the room reeks of burning flesh from the silver that binds her to the surface. She’s humming softly under her breath and blood red tears track down her face, trickling off into her hair and matting it when it dries. She’s in a tank top and jeans, neither one of which provides much cover from the silver bounds. Clint pads softly into the room but she still flinches at the sound of his claws on the tile floor. He puts his front paws on the table and lays his head on her shoulder, sniffing her face, and then gently licking her nose. She laughs slightly and turns her head as much as the bounds will allow. Her blue eyes race over his face, searching. 

Finally she starts to tremble and new tears leak from her eyes. She’s recognized him. 

“Clint,” she cries, “Oh, god, it’s you.”

Clint yips happily and wags his tail. He shifts into human form, and then begins to quickly and carefully unwind the silver chains from Darcy. Looking around, he sees a discarded lab coat tossed over a nearby chair. It won’t provide much of a barrier, but it’s better than nothing. He wraps it around his own hands, and then sets to work on the silver strapping her down. She cries harder as he starts to peal it off the exposed skin of her chest, thin bits of flesh coming off with the chain. The same goes for her legs, the bits of skin mixed in with the fabric of her clothes that have burned away. Clint wants to sooth her, but both his hands are occupied with getting her free.

Suddenly two more hands appear; one long and thin, taking hold of Darcy’s left hand and the other one massive, completely covering Darcy’s right hand. Thor and Loki talk slowly and softly to Darcy, mostly nonsense words and Loki even goes so far as to stroke one finger down the length of the woman’s face, muttering to her, keeping her focused on anything other than the pain. It seems to take forever getting her free, but Clint refuses to rush this, to cause her any more pain than he has to. Finally, the last bond falls away and Darcy can sit up. She takes in Clint, Thor and Loki. She blinks several times, then a leer stretches across her face as she gives all three of them a once over, top to bottom. Clint rolls his eyes. 

“Eyes up here, if you please, Darcy.” She grins and there’s blood on her teeth from where she’s chewed on her lips in pain. 

“You’re naked. Like totally naked. Starkers,” her eyes light up, “has Phil even seen you naked yet? Oh, god, he hasn’t, has he? Oh, this is so great. I got one over on Coulson.” She leans past Clint to get a better look at Thor and Loki. 

“Ok, so they’re naked too. This is great. I’m not sure if this is a hallucination yet or not, but still, three mega hot naked guys coming to my rescue. I like this plan.”

Loki is grinning behind Clint. “She’s fun. You didn’t say she was going to be fun, Clint.”

Thor nods. “She clearly appreciates the finer things in life.”

Clint sighs, rolls his eyes again, then helps Darcy stand up and pretends not to notice when her legs give out. He just holds her up until she can get the trembling in her limbs under control. He wraps her in the lab coat and they start to head back the way that they’d come, looking to meet up with Steve and the others. Clint, Thor and Loki shift, forming a perimeter around Darcy. The whole time Darcy has taken it upon herself to sing “It’s Raining Men” under her breath. 

They meet back up with the others in the hallway, Natasha clearly limping and sporting a large number of bruises and what appears to be a broken arm. The wolves allow her and Darcy a few moments to check themselves over and embrace. The redhead’s eyes are suspiciously bright when they pull apart but Clint values his limbs far too much to comment on it. The group finds a locker room and the wolves shift, changing into scrub sets pilfered from nearby lockers. It’s going to harder to track in human skin, but it’s a lot easier to move around the area and escape as a person. Finally, there is only one thing left to do: find Phil.

Clint is silently panicking. He can’t smell him in human form, not this far away. He can’t find him, he’s lost Phil, he’s a failure—

“Stop it. Panic quieter,” Loki mutters to him. 

“I can’t find him, he’s gone and I don’t know where—“ Clint starts. Loki shakes his head and pulls Clint to a stop, allowing the others to move past them.

Clint falls back to walk with Loki, Steve and Tony moving to the head of the pack. The raven haired man smiles at Clint, than raises his hand and places it over his heart. 

“You have his heart, Clint. He’s your bondmate. You alone know how to find him. No matter where is he is, you’ll always find him.” Loki tapped Clint’s chest again then moved back up into the pack his hand gently brushing against Thor’s, their fingers intertwining. Clint took a deep breath. Could it really be as easy as that? He tuned out everyone else, all other sounds, scents, and movements and just listened to that still, small voice that had been in his dreams all his life. That special place that had been reserved for Phil. He reached for it, found it, and wrapped himself in it. Felt the warmth, the love, and most of all the feeling of _complete_ that radiated out from that spot. He tilted his head, let himself fall into that space and then reached _out_ pushing that feeling outward until it flowed from him. It drifted further from him until, suddenly, it stopped. It pinged against something else, then radiated back to Clint.

He opened his eyes with a gasp, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Got ‘em.”

In the end, Phil was being kept in a large operating theater. He was strapped down, just like Darcy had been. The room was full of doctors, techs, scientists and men with guns. Barney was leaning against the far wall and Justin Hammer was leaning over Phil, a scalpel in his hand. The pack plus the two vampires burst in the door. The room immediately descended into chaos. Natasha sprinted forward, leapt into the air and crushed a man’s neck using her thighs. Darcy had somehow located a taser and was indiscriminately tasing everyone who wasn’t a wolf or a vampire. When that didn’t work, she was displaying a previously unknown violent streak and simply broke one guard’s neck with a flick of her wrist. 

The wolves, save Clint, had shifted and the room was filled with snarls and the snapping of jaws as they laid waste to those that had brought harm to their own. Clint ignored all the violence around him, heading straight for Phil. He leaned over his mate and took in his features. He had dark shadows under his eyes and looked exhausted. He’d clearly not feed in several days and the open wounds on his chest remained, suggestive of silver poisoning. Still, Phil managed a small smile at the corners of his mouth when Clint came into view.

“You came.”

“Yeah, ya know, we were having a party. Couldn’t do it without you. You’re the guest of honor.”

Phil chuckled. “This does seem like the kind of party I’d get invited to.”

Darcy crowned from across the room, “Clint looks really awesome naked! You should tap that like ASAP, ok, Coulson?”

Phil’s eyebrows drew together. “Darcy saw you naked?”

Clint grinned, “Let’s get out of here, and I’ll tell you all about it.” 

Clint released the straps on the table and was helping Phil to his feet when something slammed into his side, forcing him away from the table and from Phil. Coulson fell to the floor, unable to support himself. He cried out as a fresh wave of pain raced across his body. The force of being hit carried him several feet across the room. Clint gasped and rolled onto his side, catching sight of what had hit him. Barney.  
His brother stormed up to him, turned Clint onto his back and viciously kicked him in the ribs. He felt one crack along his left side and breathing quickly become harder. Barney’s hand fisted in his hair and pulled his head back, baring his neck. His eyes were wild, enraged. This was Barney at his most feral and Clint didn’t know if he’d survive the encounter.

“Why did you have to interfere? Hmm? Why couldn’t you just do what you were told? Things were going to be fine! _Fine!_ I was going to protect them. I was going to save all of us! Then you had to go and _**RUIN EVERYTHING**_!!! You did this to us. You did!!” He kicked Clint several more times in the side, forcing a gasping cry from between his lips and blood to bubble up in his mouth. He tried to spit it out, but just succeeded in small bits of it dribbling down his chin. 

Barney got his hands around Clint’s throat and started to squeeze, choking him. Clint tried to get his hands up and dig at Barney’s around his neck but breathing was already difficult and black spots were rapidly dancing in his field of vision. Suddenly Barney let go and turned to his left, his arm striking out and backhanding the black wolf that had been sneaking up on him. Loki yelped as he fell back. Then Thor and Steve were there, each grabbing an arm, pulling Barney away from him. Tony tried to sneak in, get a leg and got kicked in the face for the trouble. Pepper was circling, looking for a chance herself.

Clint fell back onto the cold steel floor of the theater. He drifted in and out of consciousness when cool hands suddenly pressed to his forehead and he was hauled into a lap. _Phil_. “Stay awake, Clint. Just stay awake. Don’t close your eyes. Look at me, only me.”

Clint smiled, “Yes, sir.” He was aware of Natasha and Darcy each moving to stand in front of them, shielding them from harm.

Barney was bucking, trying to throw off the two wolves that held his arms. He was screaming at them, insults, slurs, anything he could think off. He got free, just for an instant but it was enough. Barney shifted and snapped his jaws, backing off for a moment, trying to find a way to get through the line of wolves and back to Clint. 

He snarled, growled, the hackles on his neck rising, foam showing at the edges of his mouth. Darcy held up the taser and actually giggled. “Hey! Remember this? Yeah! Totally had your lame ass drooling into the carpet? Ready for round two? Come on big boy, let’s go!”

Barney’s muscles bunched and he prepared to lunge when the nearest wall implode. Bruce’s alter ego barreled into the room, roaring at the occupants. 

He breathed heavily. “HULK SMASH!” He stopped, taking in the scene. Clint injured on the floor, Phil holding him, also injured, Darcy and Natasha standing guard and the wolves forming a defensive line. He turned his head and took in the corpses of the scientists and doctors, as well as focusing in on Barney, the lone wolf. Hulk began to growl and started forward. Barney snarled and leapt at him, but one gigantic green hand caught him in mid-air and held him aloft by the tail. Barney twisted and snarled, but couldn’t get his teeth into the being holding him.

Hulk growled again and held Barney high enough so that they were eye to eye. Very slowly and very deliberately he said, “BAD DOG.” 

With that, he tossed Barney across the room and into the wall. He impacted with terrible force and the crack of shattering bones echoed across the room. The room fell silent. Barney shifted back, human now. His breathing was labored and he was clearly dying. Clint struggled to his feet, Phil’s hand cool and firm in the small of his back. They limped over so that Clint stood over the broken form of his brother. He looked down at him, beaten and broken and tried to drum off the resolve to do what needed to be done. He was packmaster now: Barney’s execution fell to him. This was his burden to bear. He took a deep breath, prepared to shift, but before he could Barney raised his head slightly. 

“Pep…Pepper,” he slurred. Clint turned and watched as the red haired wolf slowly approached, tension shot through every line of her body. She growled at Barney, her lips curling back to show her teeth. He reached a hand towards her and she snapped, narrowly missing the fingers. Pepper sat down on her haunches, hung her head and finally after a few moments raised her head and stared into Clint’s eyes. He knew then, what she was asking of him. Her claim to Barney was just as strong. She was his bondmate; and was asking for the right to be the last thing to ever touch him. He nodded, leaned down and touched Barney’s face.

“You were my brother, my packmaster, my leader. You were all the blood I had left in this world. I would have done anything you asked of me; tried to do what you asked of you. Instead you put yourself above me, above the pack, above our laws. For that crime, Charles Bernard Barnes, you are exiled from your pack and sentenced to death.” Clint stood and started to turn away. He stopped, looked back and whispered, “I love you, Barney.” He finished turning away and showed his brother his back. Phil supported him, turned away, his arm firm around Clint’s waist. 

The rest of the pack followed suit, first Steve, then Tony, Loki and Thor. Natasha and Darcy exchanged looks and then they too turned. Even Bruce, naked and confused after shifting back to his normal form, turned away. They all turned their backs and shunned their former leader. 

All except Pepper. She alone prowled forward and placed her jaws around Barney’s throat and with a sharp twist, snapped his neck. She let go, Barney dropping lifeless to the ground. Finally she turned and walked away, slipping into the pack line between Steve and Tony, who both dropped their heads and nuzzled her. 

Clint took a deep, shuddering breath. “Time to go,” he said. 

The group quickly and quietly headed towards the exit, but not before a shuffling of the rubble alerted them to the presence of one remaining survivor. Justin Hammer pulled himself out from under a stone slab and came face-to-face with an enraged Phil Coulson. His hand shot out and he raised the human off the floor by his neck, leaving his legs to kick uselessly in the air.

“I should very much like to have a word with you regarding the treatment of myself and my companions.” He raised an eyebrow at Natasha, who muttered something to Darcy. All three vampires crowded the man. 

Phil tilted his head, looking at Clint. 

“Dinner?” Clint asked with a smile.

Phil nodded. Clint, Bruce and the wolves excited the room as Hammer began to scream. His cries quickly reduced to gurgles and then into silence. A few minutes later, the trio emerged. Not a speck of blood was on their mouths, but all three looked refreshed and their wounds had started to heal up nicely. 

The remaining pack members shifted and stole the clothes from dead guards and scientists. Bruce looked positively normal in the lab coat he’d found to go over the tattered remains on his clothing. Phil traced his fingers down Clint’s arms and rested his fingertips against Clint’s. He smiled then locked their fingers together as the group quickly excited the building. As they all loaded into a nearby van, Darcy and Loki climbed into the cab of the van and within a few minutes had it hotwired. Clint was going to have to watch those two carefully, or they would form some kind of unholy alliance, he was sure of it.

Finally, Tony slide into the driver’s seat and just as they were pulling out of the lab’s parking structure, a small, beat up Ford raced into the parking lot. A beautiful dark-haired woman climbed out of the driver’s seat and started tapping on the driver’s window.

“Please, are there any survivors? I’m looking for one man, his name is Bruce Banner, please if you can tell me anything—“

Bruce was out the side door of the van and picking up the woman before she’d even finished her sentence. He spun her around and they were both laughing and crying and kissing, Bruce stroking her face and hair and looking at her like he’d never seen such a precious sight before.

Tony opened the window and hollered at them. “Hey, I’m all for true love and this all seems very ‘Princess Bride’ and all, but could you maybe have make-up google-y eyes at each other inside the van? We’re on a time table here, folks.”

Bruce grinned and he and the woman climbed back in the van. “As you wish.”

Tony peeled out of the parking lot and suddenly, they were clear, free, and on their way home. Clint started giggling and before he knew it, all of the others were laughing with him. Bruce’s girl smiled and extended her hand to him.

“Elizabeth Ross. Call me Betty, please,” she said. She curled herself in next to Bruce. Natasha and Darcy were cuddled in one seat, Thor and Loki sprawled across another. Pepper was pressed in a window seat, lost in her own thoughts. Steve and Tony were up front, their fingers intertwined on the steering wheel, leaving Clint and Phil to occupy the last row of seats in the very back of the van.

“Get some rest, boss. We’ve got six hours until dawn and we’ll make it back to the circus in five. We’ll wake you up when we get close,” Tony called from the front.

Clint turned and pulled Phil down on top of him, inhaling his scent and grinning into his neck. Phil sighed and rolled so that he could press Clint along the length of his body, spooning him so they were spread out along the seat. Phil’s arms locked around him in an iron grip that set off liquid heat in Clint’s belly. For the first time since they had escaped, Clint allowed himself a moment to just _be_ and appreciate what he had been given. His pack was here with him, he was their leader, and he had found his bondmate and somehow managed to recruit another shifter, his girlfriend and two other vampires into his life.

Life was never dull for Clint Barton. The gentle sway of the van and the calm strength of Phil next to him lulled him into a doze. Before sleep completely claimed him, he raised his head and kissed Phil. 

“I want you to know as soon as we get somewhere with privacy and a bed, I don’t plan on leaving it for the foreseeable future,” he muttered into Phil’s neck.

“I can get onboard with that,” he replied with a smile.


	8. Ode to Joy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And ending and a beginning

Clint awoke to a gentle shaking on his arm. He opened his eyes to see Thor leaning over him, long blonde hair trailing over his features, an ecstatic grin on his face.

“Welcome home, Clinton, son of Harold. You have been much missed from these halls of late.” Thor clasped him tightly on the shoulder. Clint winced slightly, and then Thor slides his hand down, enclosing his elbow and assisting Clint into a sitting position. Phil’s arm grips him around the chest, his solid presence a gift at his back. The two men help him from the van. The hours of travel and the horrors of the lab have finally caught up with him. His whole body is screaming and its only Phil’s arms that are keeping him upright at the moment. Yet he can’t help smiling at his pack mate. 

“Thor,” he grinned, “We don’t live in a hall. We live in a traveling circus.”

“Aye,” the blonde nodded sagely, “Yet here we have a great hall that fills nightly with spectators. They watch us tame great beasts, leap from great heights and dance in the sky and gasp as magic explodes in front of their eyes. There is power in that, Clint Barton. Those of us with gifts, whose forms shift between man and myth, know it. We are responsible for its keeping. And now you are responsible for us.” 

Clint swallows past the sudden lump in his throat. It’s true. These people, these wolves, and now three vampires are his responsibility. The weight of that crashes down on him and his breathing speeds up. It’s too much, he’s not good enough, he’ll let them all down--

Cool lips press to the nape of his neck. “Clint,” Phil murmurs. His voice immediately centers him. “It will be fine. We are all here with you, all safe.” Thor is frowning. 

“I meant no offensive. I only wished to express my great joy at your homecoming. You will lead us far. We will be stronger for your leadership.” He fixes his blue eyes on Phil. “You and yours will be most welcome here.” Phil nods, one arm still holding Clint upright and the other sliding down so their fingers can intertwine. 

The duo starts to head towards Clint’s trailer and _finally_ a proper bed, when Clint stops. 

“I need to find somewhere for Betty and Bruce to sleep and for Tasha and Darcy too,” he starts to turn around and head back but Tony is suddenly there and he can see Pepper shaking Betty’s hand and directing her and Bruce off to the side.

Tony turns Clint back around and practically frog marches him to the front door of Clint’s trailer.  
He holds up three fingers, forestalling anything that Clint might say. “One: Pepper is going to stay with me and Steve for a few days while we get Barney’s things moved out. Then that trailer will be yours and Pepper can have this one. Two: there are two spare equipment trailers and at least for tonight our guests will stay there. The terrifying redhead already climbed on top of one and claimed it ‘in the name of Mother Russia’ and I was not about to argue with that. Loki and Darcy are practically braiding each others’ hair and making friendship bracelets and there is no way that’s not gonna end without someone getting arrested or something lit on fire. We’ve gotten cots installed in the trailers and one of them has been upgraded with blackout glass, same as your windows. Sunlight won’t be an issue.” He pauses and takes a breath. 

“Third, and most important: For fucks’ sake Clint, go to sleep. You’ve got a bondmate and in case you’ve forgotten, you just got back from a stay at the Scary as Fuck Motel. Tomorrow night, we’ll all sit down and talk about our feelings ok? I’ll even get Steve to make a playlist on iTunes. He’s getting better at that kind of stuff.” 

He cups his hands around his mouth and hollers at Steve. “Hey, Rogers! Make a ‘Welcome Back Barton’ playlist, will ya? Include _We are the Champions_ by Queen and _I’m in Love with a Vampire_ by Saving Jane but none, and I mean _none_ of that Big Band shit you seem so found of, you got me?” 

“I like Big Band,” says Phil, voice level and calm. It’s terrifying. Tony whips back around.

“Rogers! New plan! All Big Band, all the time! I want Ella Fitzgerald, Nat King Cole, and Glen Miller on a non-stop rotation from here on out!” 

Steve shakes his head and waves at them before disappearing to oversee the accommodations.

Tony smiles at Clint, then tilts his head, clearing deciding something. He extends his hand to Phil and the vampire shakes it. Tony and Phil continue to shake hands and seem to be having an entire conversation with their eyebrows. Tony is saying _I know you’re good for him but he got taken on your watch and we will have words about that_ while Phil’s say _I know he did and there is nothing that will tear him from me now_ to which Tony replies _I’m going to hold you to that_. At least that what Clint thinks is going on. It’s a lot of subtext. 

Finally Tony leaves and the two of them are alone together and safe for the first time ever. The penthouse was sort of safe but that had been a lot of adrenaline and running and only a little sex. Now they are here, in Clint’s home, with a real bed and his pack is here and he’s so, so tired, but Phil is right there and it’s perfect. 

They manage to stagger inside and it takes a full minute for Clint to process that they are laying down on the bed and then he starts giggling and can’t stop. Phil just quirks the corners of his lips up and that just makes Clint laugh more. As dawn crests over the horizon, they fall asleep intertwined. 

They both dream. Clint dreams of cages and steel and silver and Phil dreams of pain and blood and lifetimes wondering alone. They wake and reach for the other and once they curl together again, the dreams subside. 

It’s dark by the time that Clint awakens. He opens his eyes and stretches. Phil is trailing his fingers across his arms and just watching him. Seeing that Clint is awake, he smiles. It’s a real smile and it reaches his eyes and it squeezes Clint’s chest because this is his and its perfect. Well, almost perfect. He’s waited his whole life for this and he’s tired of waiting. He leans forward and captures Phil’s mouth in a bruising kiss. Phil shifts, letting him deepen it and take charge. 

Clothing comes off in rush and then they are pressed skin to skin for the first time and there is no force on earth that would pull Clint from this bed now. Phil rolls them so he’s underneath Clint and the alpha part of Clint’s brain growls in pleasure. They kiss and stroke and start the process of mesmerizing the spots that make breath catch and gasps escape lips. They will have lifetimes to catalog responses. Clint reaches for the nightstand and pulls out the tube of lube. He uses all his strength to roll them again, placing Phil on top. He spreads his legs, making room for him to settle between his thighs. Then, making sure Phil’s eyes are tracking the movement, he leans his head up and back, exposing his throat. Phil stills above him. 

“You’re sure?” he asks, eyes tracing Clint’s face. 

“Phil,” he thrusts his hips up, pressing against him. It’s all he needs to say. Witty banter escapes him, his normal humor gone. All he can focus on is Phil. 

It’s enough. Slicked fingers press against his opening and slowly the tip of one finger presses inside. Phil works him slow, one hand getting him open and the other stroking his cock in the counter rhythm to his fingers. Phil is hard against his thigh and Clint rolls his hips, urging his to rut against him. Once he can take three fingers without wincing, Phil pulls out. Clint moans, his hips arching to try and chase the feeling of fullness. Phil slicks himself up, then pulls Clint into his lap. 

They are face to face and Clint can feel the head of Phil’s cock pressing at his entrance. Phil’s lips take his mouth in a searing kiss and then Clint is pushing himself down and Phil slides inside inch by glorious inch. 

“Phil,” he says, “Phil.” And it’s all he can say because his brain isn’t online anymore and his whole world was narrowed down to this moment and this man. Phil thrusts up and stars are exploding behind his eyes and angels are singing from on high, and Clint is pretty sure sex with Phil Coulson could broker world peace and solve the budget crisis and cure all diseases but that’s too damn bad because he’s not sharing.

They find a perfect rhythm and Clint is sliding down as Phil thrusts up and things are slotting into place in his mind. Pieces are fitting and he can feel the bond that’s been growing between them solidifying and he’s close. It’s so good and so perfect and there’s just one more thing that he needs. Clint kisses him again then leans back and bares his throat again. It’s the ultimate show of trust. A wolf never shows its throat, and Phil is pressing his lips against his skin and Clint feels the first graze of his fangs. 

“Are you sure,” Phil asks because he loves him and doesn’t want to hurt him ever.

Clint is babbling and he knows it. Words like _yes_ and _please_ are falling past his lips. Finally, Phil presses back down to his throat, and as he thrusts up into Clint he bites down on his neck. His fangs pierce the skin and blood immediately flows out into Phil’s mouth. He sucks, feeding on his mate. 

The pleasure had been intense before but this was a whole new level. Clint shouts as he comes and the spasms pull Phil over too. They slow down, thrusts becoming jerky and slowly Phil slips from his body. Clint moans at the emptiness. Phil continues to mouth at his neck. He licks the wound, sealing it. They pull back enough to clean up then fall back into bed. 

“I’ve got you,” Phil says. 

His whole life he’s been searching, looking, waiting for this moment, this man. 

_I’ve got you_

“I know. I’ve got you, too,” he replies. 

They sleep a few hours more and by the time they awaken again, the circus is in full tilt. They make love one more time, hands tracing scars and making new promises of a lifetime starting tonight. Eventually they dress and venture from the trailer to find the others. 

Clint takes a deep breath, in and out, then again, and finally a third time. He can smell the familiar scents of the circus: the fried food, the fresh hay, the cut of the grass and the hint of rain on the horizon. The dancing midway lights cast shadows that play across his vision like a rainbow. Children shout, the teasing calls of gamekeepers and the clamoring of bells and whistles ring out in the darkness. 

In the distance, a lone wolf howls into the night. More calls rise up in the shadows.  
 _Join us. Run with us. Hunt. Lead us._

Clint smiles and then he’s running, fast and free. Phil’s next to him, keeping pace and he can see Darcy and Natasha darting through the trees in the distance. As he enters the forest, he shifts. Between one moment and the next the wolf bursts from his skin. He barrels into the clearing and there they are. His pack is waiting for him. Loki and Thor, Steve and Tony with Pepper between them. Bruce stands to the side, green tinting his eyes but a smile on his face as Betty strokes his hand. 

Clint stops and Phil is there, his fingers carding through his fur. Possessiveness runs hot in his blood. _This is mine_ , he thinks. 

He raises his head and howls at the sky. 

The pack answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so very, very much for the love and comments. It means the world to me!


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